


Two for Flinching

by tanyart



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:09:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria is angry; Malik and Altair try to make things right via adorable kids. Implied Malik/Altair/Maria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two for Flinching

"I do not think it is right for us to involve the children," Malik said after some consideration. 

"I don't mind helping," Darim replied, looking from Malik to his father, eager to please and only five years old, already trying to take on the world and make challenges for himself.

Malik knelt down, settling a hand on Darim's small shoulder. "And that is very kind of you, but sometimes it is important for a person to recognize their own mistakes and take full responsibility for it," he said, and threw Altair a meaningful look.

"And sometimes you need to know when to ask for help," Altair shot back, turning Darim around to face him, and finished with a wry smile, "As  _Ammu_ Malik is always telling me."

Malik shook his head, at a complete loss. Maria was not talking to either of them besides what was necessary to keep the Order running, and their bed was significantly colder without her. Altair was miserable, though he tried to hide it, and Malik himself was getting dangerously desperate for her forgiveness. He frowned, but in a rare show of quiet cooperation, did not argue.

"What do I have to do?" Darim asked, solemn and determined. "I do not like when mother is angry."

"None of us do," Malik muttered, but Sef started to blink, not understanding, and it made him all the more sensitive about the situation. Before the little boy could start his soft, tentative mantras of  _whys_ and  _hows_ , Malik gathered him to his chest, knowing that Sef liked to be held and comforted rather than talked to when it came down to it. It was a habit they would need to coax him out of, but for now Malik figured it was all right.

Altair glanced at Sef, making sure he was not in danger of being upset, and nodded at Darim. He picked up a wrapped bundle at his side, slipping off the cloth to reveal the handle of a dagger and a strong, shining steel blade.

"Your mother has been wanting a blade from a certain blacksmith in Damascus," he explained, rewrapping the dagger and handing it over to Darim with care. "You make sure to give it to her and if she likes it, tell her it's from  _baba_  and Malik, and that we are very sorry."

He paused.

"And make sure you make that face – the one whenever you ask  _Ammu_  Malik for sweets."

"What?" Darim asked, confused, and looked up at Malik for clarification.

"Ah," Malik said ruefully, thankful he had no more candies to give, "that's the one."

Darim frowned, but held the dagger at arm's length – as he was taught – and with both his father and uncle's blessing, went away to deliver his mother the present.

 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon they saw Maria heading towards them through the library, and Altair sat back in his chair while Malik slowly looked up from his ledger in resignation.

"She can't be walking over this quickly to forgive us," Malik said.

Altair did not reply. Once Maria reached them it was very clear that she was, if possible, even angrier with them than before. For a moment, no one said anything – Malik on policy that it was better to wait, Altair out of habit, and Maria appeared to be having difficulty deciding which point to bring up first.

It wasn't until Darim rounded the corner in a hurry with a freshly wrapped bandage around his tiny arm that Altair and Malik both realized they had made another  _very_  big mistake.

"Darim, are you all right?" Altair asked, standing up.

Darim nodded, though his nose and cheeks were blotchy and red, suggesting that the boy had been recently crying and was on the verge of doing so again. "Sorry,  _baba_ ," he mumbled, and rubbed furiously at his eyes in annoyance. "I fell and – it's only a scratch."

"You do not have to be sorry for anything, Darim," Maria said, putting a reassuring hand over his head. "Accidents happen. Your father and uncle should have known better." _Known better than to give a five-year old boy a sharp knife_ , she did not say since Darim was upset enough, but the look she gave Altair and Malik was enough to make it clear.

Both men did not shrink back, but Maria did not have to see them to know how wretched they felt. She scooped Darim into her arms, teased a smile out of him with a loud kiss on the nose, and turned to Altair and Malik.

"Now if you two would relinquish our room for tonight, I'd like the both of you to reflect on your choices in the stables," she said.

"But-" Altair began.

"Or you can sleep out in the corridor if the stables are beneath the grandmaster and his second, though I do believe the corridor is considerably less private."

"I do have my own room, you know," Malik said, though the room itself was hardly ever occupied for its intended use.

"I am aware of that," Maria replied, shrugging before she walked away with Darim staring over her shoulder. "And if your integrity permits you to sleep in there, then by all means; feel free to do as you wish."

 

* * *

 

"Now, Sef," Altair said the next morning, and hoisted the boy over his shoulders, "Can you do _baba_  a favor?"

"You are going to run out of children to use at this rate," Malik said dryly, and brushed the last of the straw from his robes.

 


End file.
